Dear Dream Journal
by BarbedCaress
Summary: A collection of story ideas presented in the form of Harry writing in a dream journal. Rated T for safety This will forever be a work in progress, updated as I get ideas that I am unlikely to write in full
1. Chapter 1

**Dear Dream Journal**

**disclaimer**: Nothing I write is monetized. **I lay no claim to anyone's intellectual property**, especially not JKR's. By this point we should all be big boy's and girl's and know that. Therefore, I plan to not include a disclaimer with every chapter. If in doubt, refer to this disclaimer.

**LONG AN (feel free to skip):** I have many story ideas for the HP universe, but sadly I will never live long enough to flesh them out into full stories. My ideas usually come to me as a scene, which after thinking about it a bit, develops into a skeletal structure for a story. Sometimes it is even less. My 'A Very Different Harry Potter' story developed from an author using "Merlin's hairy balls" as an epithet. I thought of that and wondered, what if that had more meaning. What if there was a spell that generated ball shaped lights, or effects, or something. Eventually I came up with the scene of Harry meeting Merlin's portrait and the two shared the same hobby, juggling. From there, everything else was born. The story was not originally about politics, pre-teen marriage, friendly Draco, or any of the other things that have seeped into the story.

I have decided to start sharing some of these unrealized stories as entries in a Dream Journal Harry keeps. That way I can write them, share them, and hopefully some of you will enjoy them.  
For obvious reasons, most will be quite short.

PS. Thought this was an original title, but decided to google to make sure… Original? Not even close! I don't see anyone else using it the way I plan to. And I have not read any of those stories, to make sure I don't plagiarize, even accidentally. So much has been written about HP, I have decided original ideas are hard to find.  
Regardless, Enjoy!

==================================DDJ=========================================

Dear Dream Journal,

Entry 1:

This feels stupid. Madame Pomfrey told me to start a dream journal to help me deal with some of my dreams. They are usually nightmares. After all, who needs 'help' dealing with good dreams? When I told her that, she said I needed to write all my dreams down, good or bad.

"Similar themes can point to problems in your life that can be addressed", she said.

I could tell her the 'themes that need to be addressed', starting with the Dursleys. But no one wants to hear that.

So, here goes.

PS Dear Dream Journal, if you start writing back to me like a certain diary we will not mention, I will destroy you immediately. I will burn you to ash, separate the ashes into a dozen piles and mail them to the most distant parts of the globe. I will enclose a letter which states these are the ashes of my father and he wanted them scattered in the rivers of the country where his soul felt most at peace.  
So, on the off chance you are sentient, don't ever let anyone know. If word gets back to me, you will be learning to swim, postmortem.

So, with the warnings out of the way, here goes.

Last night I had a dream. I think it would have become a nightmare, but I woke up before it got all life and death-y.

Here is what I remember. (still feels stupid talking to a piece of paper)

Dear Dream Journal,

Last night I had a really weird dream: then again, most of mine are, as you will soon learn.

I was sitting in the Great Hall with everyone else. There were many students there I did not recognize. Some looked brutish and wore heavy furs. Others wore light blue uniforms. Those in fur were uniformly male, while those in blue were all female… and beautiful… especially one.

(I wonder what deeper meaning is contained in that? Maybe I think most guys are jerks and most girls are prettier than guys? I'm a teenage guy. Not much 'deeper meaning' required there!)

Anyway, we were all waiting for this burning cup thing to pick some names for some competition. It must be a big deal, because everyone was tense waiting for the results. Even I was excited, although I don't know why. The people picked were to be over 17 and I knew I wasn't. Wasn't sure what age I was, but I knew I didn't qualify. But I was just as tense as everyone else.

The headmaster stepped forward and declared the goblet was ready to make its choices.

As he as speaking the flames from the cup thing rose higher and changed color, becoming a more red-orange where before they were lower and bluer.

(Pomfrey said everything could have significance so I should write as much detail as I remember. I don't remember the color of the cup, or even its shape, but I remember the color of the flames. Weird eh?)

Anyway, a scrap of paper flew out of the cup before the headmaster could say anything else. He snatched it from the air (I wonder if he used to be a seeker? Nice reflexes!) and then looked down the Gryffindor table until he locked eyes with me.

Before he could say anything, the cup spit out another piece of paper, then another, then another. All of which he grabbed from the air as easily as I could take three steps.

(Seriously thinking seeker here!)

He read the next and with increasing speed read the next two.

"The Champion for Hogwarts is… Harry Potter."

The hall became noisy with people screaming cheater while others were laughing and clapping.

"The Champion for Durmstrang is… Harry Potter."

The hall fell silent. I was wondering how I could be two champions in a TRI-wizard tournament.

"The Champion for Beauxbaton is… Harry Potter."

People started mumbling and whispering… rather loudly. The Terror Twins were looking at each other shaking their heads negatively as people began to point their fingers toward them.

"And the Champion for an unnamed school is… Harry Potter."

And then I woke up. I have to say, given the way my life usually goes, I could totally see something this screwed up happening to me.

AN: Yeah, that would be a bit annoying and REALLY short, so I decided to post the next day's diary entry also.

Dear Dream Journal,

Entry 2:

I guess writing in you does something after all. I don't believe I have ever had a 'part two' dream before, but after writing in you yesterday and then talking to Madame Pomfrey about it, last night I had a continuation of the previous dream.

In the dream, Dumbledore was really angry, I can see why Voldemort would fear him. He tried to get the selection voided and redrawn. But one of the ministry guys told him it didn't matter. Because my name came out of the goblet, I was required to participate. Not only that, but because my name came out four times, I had to participate as four separate contestants. Meaning I had to do every task FOUR times!

This was the point where Draco made his usual dream visit to say something mean.

"So, if the first task is dragons, Potter has to face FOUR of them!", Draco crowed.

Then Draco changed into a white ferret and started running down the Slytherin table squeaking 'help me you dolts' or something like that. I don't speak ferret. At least I don't think I do. After all, I didn't think I spoke snake either…

Anyway, my ferret inspection was interrupted by the headmaster demanding anyone with knowledge of this cock up (not his words, but nicer than what he actually said. I won't write that down, even in private!) to stand up now.

Most of the students over 17 stood up!

Turns out Krum was a deft hand at poker. Unbeatable was the term most often attributed to him during the following investigation. So, Krum organized a poker tournament between of age students of the three schools on the DL, whatever that means. The rules were simple, if you ran out of money you also had to forfeit your right to enter the Triwizard tournament. To ensure you didn't cheat and try to put your name in later, everyone who was knocked out of the tournament had to submit Harry Potter's name instead of their own. Since Harry was underage, there was no chance he would be chosen.

Krum thought he would be the only contestant and thus the Triwizard Champion by default. Since cheating is a long-established tradition in the TriWiz, Krum did not see anything wrong with his behavior.

Unfortunately, someone else was stirring the pot too.

The headmaster's investigation found the goblet had been confounded, rather badly if not repeatedly. The end result was the goblet's belief (see? Sentient magic items.. BAD IDEA!) there were four schools to choose champions for. And as Dumbledore determined, the ONLY actual of age applicant was Krum.

Krum did not consider the goblet would choose me over him. Or that the goblet would choose an underage wizard for any of the positions, since the headmasters had said only of age wizards could apply. He forgot the goblet was an ancient device and created long before people cared if a kid died in a public spectacle.

It was, dare I say, Inconceivable! (Yeah, I like the book. Get over it. You're a book too!)

Anyway, somehow Ron was screaming at me for cheating. Hermione was giving me 'the eyes' and saying, 'Oh Harry'.

And a white weasel running around my feet squeaking, "Dragons" or something like it.

I warned you…

My dreams are weird.


	2. The Door

Chapter Two

AN: If you have not read "It's always the quiet ones" by PixelWriter1, do yourself a favor and stop what you are doing and go read it. It is a one shot, 8400 words. Definitely worth your time, imo.

Haven't said this in a while, but it is true whether I state it or not.  
I do not own any of these characters or any portion of any intellectual property previously claimed by its creator.  
I'm just a guy with a computer who writes stuff now and then.

I make no money from this, nor do I intend to ever monetize this work.  
At best, I use this to refine my writing skills. As poor as they are, I should practice a LOT more…  
But that pesky "I'm not making money from this" does tend to intrude in my reality.

By the way, the entry numbers will skip about a bit, because… reasons. *smile*

+++++ DDJ +++++

Entry 11

Dear Dream Journal,

Yeah, still feels weird talking to a book. At least you don't write back. I bet no one in Hogwarts will ever make that mistake again. Since everyone involved was sworn to secrecy, the story was all over the castle by lunch the next day. I never said anything. And that oath was pretty heavy duty. I have to wonder if one of the professors fed the rumor mill for whatever reason.

Anyway, this is not supposed to talk about passed reality, but my dreams.

So here goes.

Last night I dreamed of Voldemort. Yeah, no surprise there. He has been trying to kill me practically since I was born. That kind of dedication should be noticed by your target. Well, not really. If he were competent, I would have died before I knew I was in danger. Right? Instead, I have years of abuse with the Dursleys, followed by several years of Him trying to kill me. I mean, really? I was a toddler! Then I was a preteen. Then a tween. (That's what Lavender called our age group) Then an official teenager. Near-death after near-death after near death. If I were Voldemort, I would assume some God was protecting me and stop trying to kill me. Seriously. In fact, I would move to the other side of the planet and take up some quiet hobby that would keep me busy until my target died of natural causes. Diety level interference can never be a good thing and should be avoided at all costs!

Which strangely enough, leads to my dream.

There was a long, wide hallway leading to a door. The walls of the hallway were covered in carved figures. Some were obviously geometrical. Some seemed geometrical, but with bits missing, or maybe added. It was hard to concentrate on those carvings. Carved at floor level to about my waist were images of men (well, humanoid. Some didn't look quite human…), many with staves, but all with some sort of tool I assume were foci. Interestingly, not a single wand in the group. And every figure was facing the door at the end of the hall.

In front of that door stood Voldemort. His back was to me, facing the door.

In his right hand he held a sword which bathed the door with a sickly yellow-green light. (I asked Parvati and she told me that color is called 'chartreuse'. What the hell? Yellow-green is not descriptive enough?) Rune-like etchings moved up the blade to disappear into the light. There was something disturbing about the way the runes moved, but I can't remember what.

In his left hand he held a staff, butt on the floor, leaning away from him like the first line of a 'W', with a harsh blue-white light. (No, I didn't ask Parvati or Lavender what color word is blue-white. I learned my lesson with 'chartreuse'!) The light didn't come from a jewel at the top as I would expect. Nope, it seemed to crawl from Voldie's hand, bathing the staff in light, before the light flowed to the floor, across to the door and then seemed to crawl around the edge of the door. It looked like the light was trying to seal the door.

And the door. Wow. I don't know how to describe it.

It looked like an ordinary door. Wood, maybe oak? Thick, but not impressively so. And it didn't do anything. At least, not when you looked at it. When I looked away from the door for any reason, to look at Voldy's weapons, or the carvings, or Voldy himself, I got the impression the door moved.

But, when I looked back, the door was always there, exactly as it was. Always exactly as it was. So exactly, it was creepy.

Then again, it was a dream. Dreams are allowed to be creepy, right? You're a dream journal. You should know. Oh, and if you are capable of responding to me, DON'T!

I have enough weird crap in my life. I don't need you adding to it.

Anyway, back to the dream.

I don't know how long I stood there watching. It seemed like years, a lot of years.

Suddenly, I was aware Voldy was looking over his shoulder at me… and he was smiling.

He said, "Oh, praise the gods! I don't know how much longer I can hold the door. A few more decades at most."

"Leave this place and live your life. Train. Learn. Ignore the idiots who categorize Magic as 'dark' or 'light'. They have no idea the darkness that surrounds us."

I noticed the door starting to bulge toward us, like a balloon. I nodded toward it without saying anything.

Voldemort turned his face toward the door and let loose a string of vulgarity I had never heard before. Interwoven were words of magic and they pushed the door flat again.

Voldemort's arms shook from the strain. Without turning his face from the door, he continued.

"Constant Vigilance. Moody… HA! Amateur! He has no idea what Constant Vigilance means. But I do and you will. Soon. Enjoy life while you can Harry. This is your destiny. Be sure to…"

And then I woke up.

Luna was shaking me awake in the common room.

She said, "It is not time for you to know these things. When it is time, I will help you."

And she smiled at me, kinda sad like. She kissed me on the forehead, brushed back the hair from my scar...

And then I woke up.

I hate waking up inside a dream. When you wake up for real, you always wonder if you are really awake yet, or if this is just another layer to the dream.

For all I know, this entire entry is part of that same dream…


End file.
